Ron Weasley and the Doorway of Pain
by Coretnor
Summary: Ron becomes frightened and runs away. Hermione sobs and cries all day. A man from New York City joins the fray. Can Harry please show those two the way?
1. Chapter 1

**I'd like to say I feel very lucky that J.K. Rowling has created such a rich universe from which I might draw. The following story borrows many elements from that universe, including character names, places, and magical properties. In no way am I the owner or the custodian of the Harry Potter books or movies, I am an amateur writer who has no affiliation with any publisher or published author. This story was written for my own enjoyment, and just maybe the enjoyment of a few others.**

**MISCOMMUNICATION**

"_From infancy on, we are all spies; the shame is not this but that the secrets to be discovered are so paltry and few_." - John Updike.

**Chapter 1: The Eavesdrop**

Ron's flat was modest but well furnished, though almost everything in it was the same violent shade of orange. Even after becoming the keeper for the Chudley Cannons, Ron continued to revere the team as though he were a young schoolboy. As tonight had been the last match of the season (the Cannons had gone down to the Wasps 160 to 130), he did not have any quidditch obligations for two whole months, when regular training sessions would begin. He had never liked living out of his trunk, but such was the life of a professional quidditch player, and he fully accepted the sacrifices he was called to make for his team. One of the biggest sacrifices being the time he could have spent with Hermione and Harry, and though he missed them during his travels, in his quidditch career he was realizing the only dream he had ever had.

Ron glanced around his living room, making sure everything was satisfyingly orange, as Hermione had threatened to replace everything in the flat one time before he left for France. He noticed that the orange throw pillows were askew and several large tomes sat open on the table--a clear sign that Hermione had been there recently. He hung his cloak and hat, and set off down the long hallway to the kitchen for a nosh, and, returning to his living room with two handfulls of chocolate cauldrons, he set about eating his first meal of the day. About halfway through his third cauldron, he heard voices coming from his and Hermione's bedroom, and suspected that Harry might be there too, though he was surprised and a little annoyed that they had not noticed his arrival. Grinning, he stealthily sidled up to the door, which was slightly ajar, and made to jump out and scare Harry and Hermione. But before he could fix an angry and offended look on his face, he heard his name and stopped in his tracks.

"Ron would want to know how you feel about it, even if he doesn't like it." Said Harry.

"Harry, I know you know Ron better than anyone, but I'm telling you, that is just not something I can drop on him that way." Said Hermione quietly, though she raised her voice above a whisper, and Ron had no trouble realizing that she and Harry were in disagreement about something to do with him.

"Look Mione, I'm serious, the longer you put this off, the worse you'll feel about it. Won't it be great to get it over with? Then you'll be free and clear." Said Harry exasperatedly. Ron could tell that Harry had said this to Hermione before, and Hermione sounded as though she had not yet listened.

"Would you want to do it that way Harry? So suddenly and unceremoniously?" Said Hermione. Ron had a funny feeling he should not be listening to this conversation, but since it directly concerned him, he could not tear himself away from the doorway.

"Well I wouldn't want to do it at all, especially since Ron's one of my best friends. But you're not going to spare anyone's feelings by letting your relationship continue this way. Think about Mrs. Weasley, she certainly expected the two of you to be married by now, so how can you string her along like this? You have to do it. It may be difficult, but Ron doesn't look like he's about to." It seemed to Ron that Harry was using the tone of explaining to Hermione something she already very well knew. Yet Ron was confused. What, he wondered, would Harry be urging Hermione to tell him, especially if it was something to do with their relationship. From the sound of it, Ron thought, Harry was accusing Hermione of being dishonest, and with a stab of horror, Ron wondered whether all those months in the air had finally taken their toll on his relationship with Hermione. "You know what it'll mean for us, Hermione, can't you at least think about me, even if you won't be honest about your own feelings?" Harry finished.

"Fine, then, if it'll make you happy I'll do it tomorrow. He hates surprises, and this will be his first night back in town, but enough is enough, all this ends tomorrow." Said Hermione determinedly, and Ron could take no more. He quickly retraced his steps to the living room, where he fumbled for his hat and cloak, and quietly let himself out of the flat.

Walking down the dimly light lane, Ron replayed everything he heard over and over, and came to the same conclusion each time: Hermione was going to ditch him. "Well then I've got to go," he said aloud, catching the attention of a passing Muggle, who averted his eyes and quickened his pace, "and mind your own business" spat Ron. He decided to go to the Burrow to visit with his parents, but he hoped to arrive after they went to bed, because he felt he could hardly stand a lecture from his mother about how little he appeared to be eating. He hailed the Knight Bus instead of apparating so that he didn't have to find something to do in the mean time. But after he took his seat on the bus, a tall burly wizard wearing jeans approached and sat down beside him. Before Ron could hide behind his Daily Prophet, the man stretched out his hand and spoke in an American accent.

"The name's Jack, nice to meet you. Say, I couldn't help notice you're wearing a Chudley Cannons hat. I don't really know much about the Cannons, but my editor's got me reporting on the English and Irish quidditch leagues, and I'm looking to highlight a team for my piece. So you seem like a proud Cannons fan, what do you think about their disappointing loss today?" The man eyed him greedily, and Ron could not help being reminded of Rita Skeeter. He wondered vaguely if all Americans were this nosey. Thinking better of flatly refusing to speak to the man, Ron decided to play along, as it was a long ride to London.

"Sure, well, my name's Ron Weasley, and I ought to tell you I'm the keeper of the Chudley Cannons, and I don't really have much to say." Said Ron. "I let in one goal, and their seeker got the snitch... that's about everything I can tell you about the match."

"Wow! You mean you're ON the Cannons? Excellent! Do you feel that your teammates could have done anything differently to win the match?" The man shot at Ron excitedly.

"Are you mad?" Asked Ron, "our chasers outscored the Wasps 130 to 10, and if there's something I've learned about seeking, it's that no matter how well you fly, the snitch doesn't always fly your way." Feeling a surge of loyalty for his now dejected seeker, and a wave of pride in his own performance, Ron continued. "And another thing, we lost Morris in the first ten minutes, so we were understrength coming out of the gate, but I was determined not to let a goal in. What else could I do? Go back in time and tell Morris to strengthen the padding charm on his helmet? Oh, sorry, Morris is one of our beaters..." And before he could stop himself, Ron treated Jack the reporter to a full account of the match, and he had quite forgotten about everything he overheard at home. As the Night bus lurched to a halt in Ottery-St.-Catchpole's deserted square, Jack extended his hand once more and hesitated briefly.

"Look, you seem to be a stand-up guy. I'll level with you--I'm not really interested in the Chudley Cannons. That is, I was sent to England to find evidence of corruption and cheating within the English league. But I'll tell you, after speaking to a number of players, I'm forced to conclude that you guys just like to fly. Sure, maybe a few penalties go uncalled, but at least here you play because you love the game. Back in the States all anyone cares about is which beater got dumped by his girlfriend and how much money they make." Ron felt a sharp pain in his stomach at the word 'dumped', but he ignored it with a grimmace.

"Yeah, sure, well it's my first night off in ages, and I have no idea what I'm going to do for the next few months, so if you'll excuse me..." Said Ron, politely, he hoped, and he climbed down from the bus.

"Hey, wait a minute, let me interview you. I'm picturing a big treatment on the life of a normal quidditch player. My readers may be interested to know they're not all pampered prima donnas."

"What do you call that?" Asked Ron, gesturing toward the bus and indicating their hour-long conversation about quidditch in England.

"Well, I can use some of it, but I want to know more about you, I already know plenty about quidditch." Said Jack. "Look, you said you don't have any plans, why don't you come to our office in New York, I'm sure you could use a vacation. We'll even spring for a hotel room." Jack stared down at Ron hopefully, and Ron considered his request, recalling once more his desire to get as far away from Hermione as he could. Feeling a bit odd but excited about the prospect of being the subject of an interview, but hoping to kill two birds with one stone, Ron nodded, and turned around to start his walk to the Burrow. "Great!" yelled Jack after him. "What do you say I meet you back here in a week?"

"Fine, see you then." Shouted Ron over his shoulder, and he grinned in spite of himself.

His week at the Burrow dragged on for what seemed like months. Neither his mother nor his father were ever at home, what with his dad's job at the ministry and his mother's frequent visits to make preparations for Ginny's wedding. So he spent most of his time reading the Muggle books his father bought, and in the evenings he went flying over the vast countryside. By the end of the week, he was almost glad to be leaving. After dinner with his parents, Bill, Fleur, Ginny, and her fiancé, Ron set off back to the village to meet Jack.

"I thought you might not show up." Said Jack, jumping up from his seat in front of the town chemist. "I hope you don't mind muggle transport, but my readers like to hear about all the vagaries of muggle existence, so I thought we'd chance a trip on an airplane." Ron laughingly nodded his assent and they proceeded to London to catch their flight.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2Urban Adventuring

Ron and Jack disembarked from their plane, both of them surprised at the effectiveness of muggle flight and quite glad to be on solid ground again. Jack hailed them a taxi and before long, they were across town standing in front of a large apartment building. 

"Well, I thought we'd get down to it, so this is it." Said Jack fondly. Ron merely glared up at the building, unsure whether he was looking at Jack's office or his home. 

"You mean, your office is here?" Asked Ron. "But surely the muggles have noticed what's going on?"

"Oh, no, no, this isn't my office, this is my home, you see, as it turns out, we couldn't actually book you a hotel, so you'll be staying with me, is that all right?" Sputtered Jack nervously. Ron opted not to let this minor annoyance ruin the novelty of his first visit to New York, so he smiled and Jack led the way inside. Ron had a brief moment of alarm when he realized he had no idea how a muggle elevator worked, but Jack assured him that they were not likely to plummet to the basement. 

Inside Jack's apartment, Ron was greeted by a young woman wearing an apron and rubber gloves who was elbow-deep in a turkey when she looked up at Ron. Blushing slightly, she took off her gloves and rushed into the foyer. 

"Hi, I'm Penelope, Jack's wife. Jack mentioned you'd be coming, so I thought I'd prepare a special dinner in your honor." She said, beaming widely and turning to continue her work.

"Oh, I'm Ron Weasley, and you didn't have to go to that trouble, I had about a million pretzels on the aeroplane." Said Ron, and though he was looking forward to a home-cooked meal, he had eaten a quite few more pretzels than Hermione would have allowed him. Penelope smiled and shook her head, pulling a large bit of organ matter from the inside of the turkey. Ron decided to leave her alone while she cooked, and so he joined Jack in the small living room adjacent to the kitchen.

"You're going to love this," cried Jack, "it's called television, perhaps you've seen it before?" 

"Wow, I've seen them in muggle shops, but I've never gotten to look at one for longer than five minutes." Said Ron excitedly. And as Penelope rattled around in the kitchen, Jack provided Ron with a complete rundown of all the muggle sports on the television. Ron was rather bored with baseball, but when he saw an auto race, he nearly jumped out of his seat. With a booming laugh, Jack explained the rules of the sport, and he and Ron wiled away the evening talking about why quidditch was the best sport in the world.

Penelope's dinner could have put any Hogwarts feast to shame. Ron ate his fill and more, only to find additional courses in front of him as Jack and Penelope got up in turn to visit the kitchen.

"This is unbelievable, how do you cook so much without mag--" Ron broke off, giving a quizzical look to Jack, who smiled and nodded.

"Yes," said Jack, "Penelope knows all about the wizarding world, and I must say she took the news rather well back when we were to be married." 

"Actually, Jack, I was terrified, and your mother... well, let's just say I was having second thoughts until I looked into your eyes on our wedding day, and then I knew I had nothing to worry about ever again." Penelope trailed off, blushing scarlet, and Ron cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"Well, I'm glad you went through with it, because your cooking is excellent, I bet you'd even give my mother a run for her money, and that's saying a lot." Ron grinned at Penelope, who blushed

"Ok Ron, now that we're stuffed to the gills, I thought we'd take you out and show you what a great city we've got here." Said Jack. Ron excitedly stood up, and the three of them left to tour the city and enjoy all the busy night spots. They were out until the early morning, and when they got back, Penelope was clearly exhausted. Ron bade the coupe good night and laid down on his sofa bed to reflect on everything he had seen. But he could not help thinking about what Hermione must be doing, and he dwelled at length on the happy couple he was staying with. Will I ever be in love like that, Ron thought to himself. He knew he loved Hermione, but his recent uncertainty coupled with the conversation he overheard left him feeling rather jealous of Jack and Penelope. Ron continued to pine for Hermione, occasionally scolding himself for his weakness, and he slipped off to sleep.

In the morning Jack, who was already fully dressed in a suit and tie, woke Ron and jovially exclaimed that he was going in to his office for a meeting, and that he would be returning after lunch to collect Ron and to take him to the newsroom. Ron drowsily nodded his understanding, and rolled over to continue his dream of winning the quidditch world cup on a two-man broom with Hermione.When he was finally rested, Ron awoke and slumped off to the bathroom. He found Penelope rattling around in the kitchen, and when she saw him she looked rather embarrassed again.

"Oh! Hi, Jack said you'd be sleeping in today. Well I'm just uh... I just, I lost my wedding ring!" Penelope fought back tears as she spoke, and Ron could not help feeling amusement at the look on her face. 

"It's no big deal," said Ron, "when did you miss it?" Penelope indicated the sink, which she had apparently tried to disassemble, causing water and potato peels to be sprayed all over the kitchen. Ron laughed, which caused Penelope to break into savage tears, but she started to laugh as well, and once she calmed down, Ron assured her that he could make short work of finding her ring and putting her kitchen back together.

"Accio ring!" Yelled Ron, and with a loud metalling clang, a ring shot out of the loosened S-Bend and landed lightly in his hand. "There you are, no harm done, see?" He handed the ring to Penelope, and then turned to face the kitchen at large.

"I can't thank you enough, I've been worried sick all morning." Whispered Penelope, and she leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. 

"Reparo! Scourgify!" Ron yelled, and in one fluid motion, the fittings and brackets flew back under the sink and reattached themselves, and the potato peels and murky water vanished.

"Everything back to normal? Good." Said Ron, and he picked up his trail to the bathroom. When he emerged a half hour later, he found a huge amount of eggs, bacon, pancakes, and toast waiting for him on the table with a note: "Thanks a million for finding my ring. I've just gone to run some errands. Eat up, I'll be back in a bit. --Penelope"

Ron gorged himself on the steaming stacks of pancakes, and sure enough, Penelope returned with her arms full of bags. Ron jumped up to help her, and she giggled oddly as he did so. 

"What's so funny?" Asked Ron, pretending to be annoyed.

"Oh nothing," said Penelope, and she quickly turned her back on him. "It's just, I can't remember the last time someone was so eager to help me carry bags." 

"Well you can't have met very many decent people here, can you." Said Ron. He immediately wished he hadn't spoken those words, because before he knew it, Penelope was standing uncomfortably close to him, her eyes fixed intently on his. 

"You're right, I haven't." Said Penelope simply. "I mean, my husband is wonderful, and I really haven't had a single worry since the day I married him. But he kind of, you know, takes me for granted. You know he's out of town more than he's at home, it's almost like he loves his job more than he loves..." Penelope broke off, her eyes watering once more, and Ron wondered vaguely whether she should seek medical treatment for overactive tear ducts. He did not, however, know what to say in response to Penelope's fears. He had known Jack barely longer than a week, and in his opinion, he was the last person to offer relationship advice. 

"I-Uh... well, you know he loves you, all he could talk about the whole trip back was how much he wanted to see you," Ron lied quickly, hoping to stem the flow of tears in Penelope's eyes. "In fact, I bet he hated his whole trip to England, he told me he thought it was a waste of time since he could still do his job without leaving you alone so much." Penelope's face was unreadable, but her sobs subsided, and she looked back into Ron's eyes, trembling slightly.

"You don't have to lie to me, I'm a big girl. The truth is Jack never thinks about anything but his column anymore. But you... you're capable of so much love, I can tell. Even if you don't know it. I want to know you, I want to know everything." Penelope sounded determined to have a long conversation, and Ron, glancing at his watch, noticed it was still only 10:30 in the morning, hardly lunch time yet. Ron sighed, and she led him into the living room, and after she made a pot of coffee, she pelted Ron with questions about his past. Ron answered as truthfully as he could, but some things were too painful to recount to a total stranger. Penelope evidently sensed that he was guarding his thoughts about the war and the friends and family he lost, because her tone of voice changed suddenly back into a waivering whisper.

"I know all about the wizarding war that went on in England, Jack talked about it a lot back then. Were you, I mean, did you lose anyone you loved?" Ron stared up at the ceiling, unwilling to answer, but he was touched deeply by Penelope's interest. It was not juvenile curiosity that led her to ask him this, he knew, but neither was her motivation clear. After a long pause, Ron decided to answer now, assuming that the subject would remain open until he cooperated.

"Yes, I did. My brother Percy was killed by Voldemort's supporters when I was 17, and a year later my friend Neville was murdered by one of my old school mates. We suspect he did it on Voldemort's orders, but as they're both dead now it's hard to know. I wish I could have killed the bastard myself. I mean, why? WHY? The war was already over, Voldemort was fnished. There was no reason to kill someone like Neville... Neville was the kindest boy you'd ever have met, and he had already suffered so much... " By then Ron could feel warm tears trickling down his own face, and burning with sadness and embarrassment, he stood to leave. "I'm getting out of--"

"Shhh." Penelope whispered. She stood to face Ron, and standing on her toes, she dried his tears with a handkerchief. Before either of them knew what was happening, Ron had pulled Penelope into an embrace, and they kissed. It was the kind of kiss he had not shared with Hermione in a long time. It was short and innocent, not passionate, and Ron could taste the sadness on Penelope's lips. Coming to his senses, Ron broke away, and reminding himself of his flight a week before, he ran out of the apartment without looking back. But he soon realized he was ill-prepared to wander the streets of New York City by himself. After walking several blocks and turning several times, Ron considered himself thoroughly lost. Scanning the street ahead of him for a landmark, Ron failed to notice a pair of Muggles in dark clothes lurking just inside the alleyway to his left. 

"Hey you, yeah you, get over here." Said one of the men, pointing a gun at Ron's heart. Panicking slightly, Ron moved quickly into the alley, visualizing the exactly location and position of his wand inside his pocket so that he could draw it without fumbling. "Now give us all your money, or you're dead!" Bellowed the other Muggle. Ron hesitated; he had neither any Muggle money nor very much gold, as he had not planned to venture into the city. 

"I don't have any, you've got to believe me, I just went out for a walk, all my money is back in the apartment." Sputtered Ron, hoping he was convincing the Muggles that he was a poor robbery target. 

"Well it's not your lucky day, is it?" Said the first man, and raising his gun again, he fired. Ron remembered only the sound of the gun and the sensation of hitting the pavement. He woke inside a hospital, and when he opened his eyes, he saw a concerned face grinning weakly down at him. Jack called for the healer, and after being administered several potions, Ron sat up. 

"How did I... did you find me?" He asked Jack.

"Oh, no, luckily Penelope missed you after she finished the dishes this morning, and she went out to look for you. She called me at once and I had you brought to the hospital here. The healer says you'll be fine, you got shot with a firearm but it wasn't serious. Penelope's worried sick, she figures she was annoying you so you left to get some peace and quiet." Jack boomed a laugh and patted Ron on the back. "If you want to put off the interview for a few days it'll be fine with me, you can rest up a bit at my apartment and we can take care of business before the weekend." Jack said goodbye and excused himself. Ron could not help being angry at himself for the anguish he had probably caused Penelope. She had asked him a lot of personal questions, but he was hardly annoyed with her. Wincing as he lay back down, he decided to let her know why he left in such a hurry, and he dozed off again. 

The next morning he was discharged from the hospital, and he found Penelope waiting for him in the lobby. Her eyes were red and puffy, but she smiled when she saw him.

"I was so worried, it was all my fault, I should have left you alone, I was just lonely, I didn't really mean to be so rude..." She said, her words spilling out the moment she opened her mouth. 

"Don't worry," Said Ron, "it's the two blokes with the firearm I'd like to blame, not you. Really, I'm quite alright, I've been hurt much worse playing quidditch."

Penelope laughed and they made their way back to the apartment, where Penelope insisted on cooking Ron breakfast again, and following another round of pancakes and bacon, she sat opposite him at the table. She looked intently at him, as though she were trying to decide what to say, but Ron spoke before she got a chance.

"Look, what happened yesterday, it was my fault. I don't talk about those things very often, it's been hard, I haven't really had anyone to talk to most of the time."

"Who said it's anyone's fault?" Said Penelope. 

"Well, it was. You see, my girlfriend and I don't see each other as often as we used to, and I have a feeling she's about to ditch me anyway. I just felt like you were someone I could sort of, get along with with. You really put me at ease, you know? But I can't, you can't, we both have our obligations, it was a moment of weakness, just a mistake..." Penelope clutched her heart as he finished, and she looked down at the table in sad reflection.

"I didn't think it was a mistake." She said. "You made me feel like I was worth more than a meal and a clean apartment. You made me feel like a person. Those things you told me... I can hardly imagine what it was like for you, and I was stupid to have felt sorry for myself. But... when I look into your eyes, I see that there's pain and worry in every day of your life, and I thought maybe I could be a part of you, even if it was only for a while. I'm so tired of being comfortable, I wanted to know what it was like to be with someone who doesn't wake up every day and barely remember the day before." 

Ron felt extremely unnerved by Penelope's admissions, but he didn't have long to ponder them, as the sound of the door opening sounded throughout the apartment. Hastily wiping her face and fixing her apron on more tightly, Penelope rushed out of the kitchen to greet Jack, and Ron sat again, wondering what he was going to do next. 


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3Whispers and Shouts

After a few days bedrest, Ron awoke once again to the sight of Jack leaning over him with a stupid grin on his face. 

"Hey there Ron, I take it you're feeling better? Good, good, we're really under the wire here, I've got to print that interview on Saturday." Said Jack excitedly. He had a bubbly air about him that told Ron now would be a bad time to talk to him about his wife. He wasn't even sure he should, but he knew that one more afternoon alone with Penelope would land him in serious trouble. By the time Jack had finished explaining each of the questions he intended to ask, Ron's eyes were glazed over, and his mind was wandering far and wide, spending quite a bit of time thinking about Hermione and Penelope. 

"So that should do it, sound good, good buddy?" Asked Jack tentatively. Ron knew Jack had noticed his vacant staring, so he quickly fixed a look of concern on his face and replied the best he could.

"Wait, so, could we go over that last one again?" Ron said. Jack set down his notebook and quill and gazed back at Ron with a patronizingly concerned look.

"Ron, I've noticed since you were attacked you haven't been the same person I met on the Knight Bus. Did something happen you haven't mentioned, is something... bothering you?" Asked Jack. Ron's eyes widened as Jack finished his question. Ron wondered to himself how Jack could possibly know what he had been planning to tell him about Penelope. Clearly, thought Ron, Jack was more perceptive than he had suspected, which evidently made Jack an excellent judge of character and a better journalist. Ron's only instinct was to change the subject, so he bravely cleared his throat and spoke out in a loud and unnaturally casual voice.

"Jack, let's get started with this interview now, I'm afraid my shoulder's starting to hurt me." Jack hesitated for the slightest moment, and then resignedly gathered up his materials and asked Ron his first question. Meanwhile, just inside the kitchen, Penelope craned her neck so she could listen in on their conversation. 

"Do you find it a strain to play quidditch full time and live with a girlfriend in London?" Asked Jack. Ron was quite surprised by this question, as the first three had concerned Ron's level of satisfaction with his quidditch robes, armor, and broomstick. 

Ron stuttered for a moment, but carefully phrased his answer. "I find both those aspects of my life extremely satisfying, and of course I'd like to spend more time with my girlfriend, but she understands what quidditch means to me and to England." Rather pleased with his answer, Ron stole a glance at Jack while he scribbled away on his notebook, but Jack wore a look of annoyance. Ron was surprised, but not upset that his answer had failed to satisfy a reporter. 

"Ok, does the fact that you lost a family member during the last war make you feel hatred toward the families of those who murdered your brother?" Asked Jack very quickly. Ron utterly gaped at Jack, quite sure he had misheard him. But once it sank in to Ron's mind that he had indeed understood the question, he felt rather annoyed with Jack.

"Look here Jack, that has nothing to do with my quidditch playing, so if you don't mind we'll leave my family out of it." Ron shot at him.

"Oh, I didn't know... that would bother... well, let's... were you aware that your family has had a history of dangerous run-ins with Lord Voldemort and his supporters, including near-fatal attacks on your sister and father, and the attempted poisining of you yourself?" Recited Jack even more quickly than before. Ron jumped up out of his seat, and began to yell.

"Look! I am not answering that question, that is my past, you have no business asking me about it like that!" Ron was furious now, and Jack obviously knew he had pushed the envelope, so he tried to calm Ron's temper.

"I'm sorry Ron, that was really inappropriate, I just, I thought my readers should really get to know you, get to know everything." He said silkily. At this Ron once again found himself speechless. Ron could remember very little of the past few days, having spent most of his time under the influence of several potions, but he had a clear memory of his first long conversation with Penelope. She had used those words, but how could Jack possibly know about them, Ron wondered. 

"How did, have you been, uh, spying on me and your wife?" Ron asked, making sure to keep his voice level. Jack jumped to his feet, and glowered at Ron.

"I have not been spying on anyone. I simply recorded the conversations you had with my wife in case you revealed anything to her about your past. It's not my fault that she thinks you're really something special now, she's been practically fawning over you since you arrived!" Jack looked rather alarming, as he was much taller and thicker than Ron, and his were fixedly pointing at Ron's. 

"She has not, as a matter of fact, your wife took a liking to me because I treat her like a real person! She isn't an appliance, mate, I hate to break that to you." Shouted Ron, though he backed away slightly from Jack's towering figure. 

Penelope, who had still been listening took the opportunity to run to her room to grab what belongings she could. When she returned to the kitchen, she did not hear any voices, but she peered through the door to find Ron standing with his back to the door, his wand drawn, and Jack laying unconscious on the floor.

"What have you done?" She asked Ron in horror. "Is he... ?"

"No, he's not dead, I just had to stun him. Went mental on me... he started accusing me of trying to ruin his marriage. I know you and I had a few moments we probably shouldn't have, but I don't think I came close to breaking up your marriage, did I?"

"Don't be so sure..." Said Penelope, and she had a sharp feeling of disappointment at Ron's words. "But, maybe... but, Jack will be so furious when he wakes up. He can't be angry at me if I'm not here... Ron, I'm afraid."

"Why, do you think he'd hurt you or something?" Said Ron.

"I don't know, he's gotten angry before, and he never actually attacks me, but sometimes things happen... you know, magical stuff, and sometimes it gets a bit out of hand." Penelope was now looking distinctly terrified of what would happen when Jack woke up. Her eyes darted around the room in a panic, but Ron grabbed her shoulders and gently shook her once.

"Hey Penelope, get a grip, it's not a big deal, we can get out of here for a while, maybe you can come stay with me in England for a while." Ron hardly knew what he was saying, but offering to let Penelope go with him to London was certainly not what he had meant to say. He gasped suddenly, as though trying to suck his words out of the air and back into the safety of his mind.

"I, well, to tell you the truth I'm already packed." Giggled Penelope, who was now beaming broadly and brandishing a suitcase and an umbrella. 

Ron lost track of the several hours following the scene at Jack's apartment, but before he knew it, he was on an airplane once more, from the looks of it near the end of the flight. The plane skidded to a halt and Ron and Penelope disembarked. Ron nearly cursed a janitor at the airport because he strongly resembled the large angry wizard who would undoubtedly be rather keen to have a word with him. As they made their way through London in a taxi, Penelope periodically leaned over Ron's lap to look at something out his side of the car, and Ron was having a difficult time keeping his composure. Finally, thought Ron, the taxi reached the remote pub and apothecary, over which stood his flat. Penelope paid the driver, and Ron ushered her up the stairs and into his foyer. Upon finding his living room deserted, Ron carried Penelope's bags to his pantry, where he hid them behind a barrel of pickled fish heads that Hermione fed to Crookshanks. 

"I like your place." said Penelope, who had followed Ron to the pantry. "I bet I know who decorated it."

"Yeah, well, now you're here, do you mind letting me know what happened back there?" Asked Ron.

"What do you mean, I..." Said Penelope.

"I mean your husband nearly taking my head off and you packing your bags when you heard us arguing." Said Ron acidly. 

"I'm aorry, I was scared. I didn't know what Jack was going to do. I didn't you what you were going to do either, I was going to leave no matter what." Whispered Penelope, and she lowered her face as though ashamed of herself. 

"Look, you can stay here I suppose, but I don't want anyone to get the wrong idea. I can just imagine what my girlfriend would say: I want you to stay here and I'm want you to marry me." Said Ron, laughingly. 

"So that's what I get, is it?" Asked an angry voice Ron could not immediately identify. He turned around to see Hermione staring at him from the kitchen. "I wait for you to come home, and you disappear for a week, and now I see you've replaced me. Tell me Ron, did you get a new best friend too, because I bet Harry hasn't had anyone rip his heart out lately!" She screamed, and she stormed out of the kitchen, and out of the flat before Ron could stop her. Ron flung himself miserably down onto his couch, and he buried his face in his hands. 

"I... I'm really sorry." Came a small voice from the corner. Ron had quite forgotten Penelope was still there, and he was so stunned he merely sat motionless and did not respond. "Look, I'll go. I should never have come here." And she rushed back down the hallway. Before Ron came to his senses, Penelope was sobbing freely and opening the front door. She opened her mouth to speak, but said nothing and exited the flat. 

Not long after Penelope's departure, Ron's door burst open and he found himself face to face with Harry. Harry was wearing a strange expression: he looked neither angry nor confused, but rather stern and knowing.

"Oh, it's you." Said Ron, turning his back on the doorway. He was not entirely happy to see Harry, although he knew he had a better chance of explaining himself to Harry than he did Hermione. 

"What's up with you, I don't see you for a week and all of a sudden we're not friends?" Asked Harry in surprised.

"You've got a lot of nerve, I heard what you and Hermione were talking about. Why do you think I left?" Asked Ron, getting annoyed again. 

"What? You mean you overheard us the day you were supposed to come back?" Said Harry. "You idiot, you must not have heard it right. In case any of this escaped you, I was trying to convince Hermione to propose to you."

"What?" Said Ron, and it was his turn to be surprised. "You're not serious. I heard you say... but... damn."

"I am serious," said Harry, "and she was going to do it too, but you had to run off like a scared little Death Eater."

"I'm no coward," said Ron. "I just... I thought I wasn't welcome here anymore." With that, he extended his hand to Harry, and after they shook hands, Ron gestured for Harry to sit down.

"So, mind telling me what Hermione's on about?" Asked Harry casually.

"She's got it all wrong. I think she overheard me talking to that muggle woman and she thought... I mean, she actually thought I was asking her to marry me. Mental!" Finished Ron weakly. Harry rolled his eyes and moved to sit down facing Ron. 

"You know, she was really upset when you up and disappeared. Maybe she's got a point, even if you didn't mean what you said. She's about to ask you if you want to get married, and the next time she sees you, you're with some mysterious woman in the pantry!" Harry said.

"Well she didn't hear everything I said either, so bully for her if she wants to go misinterpret everything." Said Ron bitterly. Harry didn't say a word, but gave Ron the kind of look he used to get from Professor Flitwick when he and Harry were often caught talking in Charms. 

"Look, do you really think that kind of attitude is going to get Hermione back?" Shouted Harry patronizingly. "If we're going to salvage your life here, we may need to get clever. Tell me about how that woman came to be here anyway." And Ron told Harry the long story about Penelope's odd behavior and Jack's increasingly bizarre and hostile questions. 

"Right. Well, I think I know just how we're going to get Hermione to listen to reason. We'll make you irresistable, she'll have to forgive you. But first, we need to go stop that Penelope from leaving."

Ron and Harry carried out preparations for their plan, but the most difficult part was still getting Hermione to play along. For his part Ron lounged around his flat the next few days while Penelope stayed in Harry's spare bedroom. Ron was still having slight reservations about Hermione, and he also feared finding Jack standing over him again as he had done so often in New York. Only now, Ron thought, Jack was unlikely to be smiling if he showed up in Ron's bedroom. 


End file.
